


Long Road of Survival

by Shadow1879



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), steter - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Falling In Love, M/M, Slow Burn, Steter - Freeform, Survival, Surviving together, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-06 09:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14053827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow1879/pseuds/Shadow1879
Summary: The world had ended and the pack has been separated but in a cruel twist of fate, Stiles and Peter find each other. Together Stiles and Peter fight back to back against the enemies plaguing the earth. As the fight gets harder and harder Stiles and Peter get closer and closer. Finding that it this desolate world they may only have each other.





	1. Beacon Hills: Living Population one

Stiles stood still.

Absolutely still. 

It felt as if he had even stopped breathing.  
Maybe he wanted to stop breathing; if he stopped breathing then everything else would stop as well. The pain, confusion, and constant fight for survival. It would all go away. It would all perish. 

Parrish. Friendly smile, helping hand, fiery orange eyes, searing heat.

For the first time in what seemed like hours, Stiles moved. He clutched his hands to his head and shook it almost violently, squeezing his eyes shut. Trying to shake all the images out of his head because it was easier to forget. Easier to wipe your mind of what used to be. All the good, peaceful images had no standing in what was left of the earth. 

Golden brown eyes opened mere seconds later. It wasn’t safe to close your eyes, anytime you closed your eyes it meant you were vulnerable. So, he opened his eyes and focused on the sign that previously held his attention. The once clear sign was now rusted, the paint peeling and the numbers faded but still legible. 

Welcome To Beacon Hills  
Population-

Someone had scratched off the numbers, leaving a blank space. Stiles felt like someone had taken a hammer and chisel and was currently chipping away at his soul. He had fled this place. Ran like all the other people in the world to the safe places. Now after months of wandering around following roads, sleeping in empty, abandoned houses he was back where he started. Where it had all started.

And all he wanted to do was run all over again, but he didn’t. His feet stayed locked in place, he slowly lowered his hands from his ears and gripped the worn straps of his ragged backpack in a white-knuckled grip. 

The wind picked up causing cool air to ruffle through his hair and pull at his clothes. He could hear the tree limbs shifting but that was it. Nothing but leaves brushing against each other. It was calming but the boy knew it wouldn’t last long. In the world, he was facing now calm never stayed. So, Stiles squeezed the straps tighter, letting the bite of his nails into his palms ground him as he walked forward. Past the ruined sign and into the town he had never wanted to ever see again.  
…….  
It didn’t take Stiles long to walk to the outskirts of the small town but instead of walking towards the center of it he peeled off and headed to the preserve. 

It wasn’t safe in populated areas. 

Therefore, he headed to the place no one would ever go. The Preserve. 

As he walked past houses he could hear faint growls but didn’t speed up. The doors of all the houses were shut so it was a waste of energy to worry it. Stiles kept a steady pace never speeding up but refusing to dawdle. He walked past house after house until they started to get further apart from each other. Soon there were no houses, just a flat road which he followed. 

Night was quickly falling by the time he made it to the Preserve but still, he didn’t stop. Sure, it was more dangerous at night, but Stiles was starting to care less and less. He just pressed forward, not caring if he came upon a cluster. 

He had coined that phrase after coming upon a group of ten of them near the Haven. Doctors referred to them as the sick populous. Believing that they were people and could be cured; going as far as refusing to kill them. Only capture them and experiment on them believing without a doubt that they would fix them. 

Well, they believed up until one escaped. 

Then they screamed.

It had happened so fast. One attacked somebody, then they attacked someone else, and they attacked another person. 

Stiles had tried to help. He and Scott-

NO! 

The boy grabbed his head again, losing his footing while trying to climb over a downed log in the dense forest and hitting his knees. He landed hard but didn’t stop the wild  
shaking, trying to will the memory away.

Stop, stop please stop!  
*******************************************************************************************************  
*******************************************************************************************************  
There was blood. So much of it but none of it was his. His hands were covered in it and he tried to wipe it onto his shirt, but it only made it worse. Still looking at his hands, he jerked when a hand clamped onto his shoulder; bring back all the sounds. The screams and growls. 

“Stiles, we need to go!” Scott’s voice broke through his trance. 

He looked up then back down at the blood-soaked blonde hair and lifeless crystal blue eyes, but Scott shook him again before he could slip into his trance.

“There is nothing we can do Stiles, now come on!” Scott grabbed him and started pulling him away.

They couldn’t leave him! No, Liam needed them, they couldn’t leave. He screamed and clawed at the ground, but Scott wouldn’t let him go. 

Next thing he knows he is outside and running beside Scott; heading towards the cars all filled with the people they loved, but he tripped. Falling, he looked up to see Scott stop and turn back. Stiles tried to scramble up again, but it was too late there was too many of them.

Blunt fingers tore at his clothes and teeth strained to bite through. He distantly heard Scott scream along with the hoarser shout that had to have come from his father, but he was focused on  
saving his own life. 

Reaching for his knife he struck the eye-socket of the closest monster and grunted when its dead weight settled on him. He struck again and again until he was buried under all the dead weight. 

He heard broken hearted screams and looked up to see his father crying on the ground. Stiles tried to call out to him, but he could barely breath under the all the weight, much less call out he tried to wiggle but it stopped when he heard more growls. Along with the step-shuffle of monster feet.

Panicked he once again tried to call out, flashing panicked eyes at the group. Scott was fighting Derek, trying to get to Stiles but Derek was pushing him into the car, while Parrish was doing the same with the Sheriff who was fighting back as well.

“No, Stiles- “

“Stop, my son-”

Derek shoved Scott again, “He’s gone! LOOK AT HIM SCOTT!”

Scott froze, letting out a broken-hearted sob, while Derek pushed him back.

Were they talking about him? He wasn’t gone he was right here. He struggled more under the mass of bodies. The Step-Shuffle was getting closer. 

Derek shut the car door then turned to help Parrish who was struggling to hold back the boy’s father. 

Derek walked over and grabbed the sheriff, forcing him to look into this eye, “John, he’s gone.”

He had shouted it at Scott but when he spoke to the sheriff his voice wobbled a little. 

John had stopped fighting as well and would have fallen to his knees if not for Parrish still holding him.

His father’s eyes were unfocused as Parrish loaded him up and climbed into the driver’s seat. Derek headed towards the other car and climbed in as well.

They were going to leave him. 

NO, NO, NO, NO, please don’t leave me! 

He tried to scream but once again nothing came out. He still tried and fought as he watched the cars start up and one by one screech away from the Haven. Leaving Stiles buried under multiple layers of bodies, silently screaming as dozens more headed his way.  
********************************************************************************************* **********************************************************************************************  
He was silently crying as the memory left his conscious. Leaving him felling empty and alone. So alone. Always alone. 

Reaching up the boy grasped a branch and pulled himself to his feet. Leaning against a nearby tree and looking up at the dusky sky. He had about one and a half hours before  
night fell. He reached up and roughly wiped at the tears. With a last shuddery breath, he straightened his backpack and trudged forward just like he always did.

He reached the rebuilt Hale House right before the sun set completely and sighed in relief when he was greeted with the site of unbroken windows. Trudging up the steps he  
reached out and tried the knob. It was locked.

Stiles did a little jump hop. It had been locked right before they had all fled. This meant no one had disturbed it, but who would really. The house was in the middle of nowhere and wasn’t on any maps. Stiles lifted a loose board and took out a rusted key. He shoved it into the lock and pushed open the door, nearly falling inside and slamming the door shut against the dark night. Stile’s leaned against the door a second, feeling a relieved smile cross his face as he locked the door again. 

He felt safe. Like really safe. 

Dropping his bag onto the floor he walked into the house. Pointedly looking away from the pictures lining the walls. He had just turned the corner into the old living room when a force came up from behind him and shoved him, sending him flying into the opposite wall. Pain exploded through his chest and forehead and he landed in a heap on the floor feeling slightly dizzy. 

His eyes swam as he heard a voice chuckle, “Didn’t anyone tell you it is dangerous to come into someone’s home without permission?”

Stiles curled into a ball as the voice got closer, “Not that I mind, of course. It has been quite boring here all by myself.”

Wait, that voice was familiar. He had heard it before. 

Before he could grasp who it belonged to, he was yanked up and forced to face a pair of Startling familiar deep blue eyes.

He watched as those eyes widened suddenly. Stiles licked his lips and uttered a single name. A name he had all but forgotten about over the months.

“Peter?”


	2. An Old Enemy

Chapter two: An Old Enemy 

Stiles was let go of so abruptly he would have fallen down if he was not already pressed up against the wall. He simply watched as Peter stepped back and stared him in shock but this expression only stayed for a mere second before a wall slammed down hiding the older man’s emotions once again. His face twisted into a familiar sardonic expression.

“Stiles Stilinski” he purred Stiles’ name out before stepping forward again. 

Stiles pressed himself further into the wall and raised a hand against Peter’s advance, not that it stopped the older man. No, Peter simply whacked his hand out of the way and crowded stiles further up against the wall. 

“I’ll be honest, out of everyone I thought may return you would be the last one on the list.”

Stiles looked down, at his dirt-covered hands still feeling like they were covered in blood. 

Yeah, it came as a surprise to him as well.

When Stiles didn’t answer Peter huffed before grabbing his chin and forcing his head up, “Come now, Stiles you never held your tongue before.”

Stiles licked his lips again before speaking in a dry cracked voice, “Peter?”

It had been so long since he had seen anyone he even remotely knew, alive that he had a hard time believing it. he still felt the pain from his impact form the wall and he grasped on to it; surely, if he was still feeling pain then this had to be real. 

Right? 

Peter was standing in front of him.

Stiles clung to that thought, but what if he wasn’t?

What if Stiles had lost what was left of his sanity? 

Maybe that was why he was seeing Peter; his brain had summoned the one-person Stiles had ever met that was well and truly insane. Creeper Wolf had lost his mind after surviving an event that killed most of his family. Leaving the man all alone in a full-time care facility for six years; all the while his body was slowly repairing itself. Unfortunately, his brain did not receive that same repair. The wolf had gone crazy, killing everyone he believed had a hand in the murder of his family. The killing of the guilty wasn’t enough for him though. He also murdered his own niece in an attempt to get the power of an alpha. On the path to revenge, Peter had bitten Scott turning the unsuspecting teen into a werewolf and forever changing Stiles life. 

Now that Stiles thought about it, they really weren’t that different from each other. Take away all the killings and innate wolfiness and they were two individuals separated from their family for far too long.

Stiles blinked.

Oh god, he was Peter.

A hysterical giggle worked his way up from the boy’s chest and Stiles was way past the point of trying to keep it in. It burst through, a sharp cutting sound that hurt Stiles’ ears, but he couldn’t stop. ‘Fake Peter’ stepped back and frowned him but Stiles ignored this and wrapped his arms around his chest.

Stiles was Peter. He, somewhere along the line, had lost his mind.

And now was imagining creepy uncles who shove people into walls and use sassy threats against them. 

He laughed harder until tears gathered into his eyes and his knees gave out. He slowly slid down the wall until he was resting on the floor staring at ‘Fake Peter’s’ knees. He laughed and laughed until he couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying anymore but really what did it matter. He was still alone. 

He was always alone.

‘Fake Peter’ let out a deep sigh and crouched down in front of him. He rested his arms on his knees and looked at the boy with a slightly put-upon look. Stiles had to give his brain credit. The recreation of Derek’s uncle was almost flawless. He had the same light brown styled hair; same sharp jawline and his lips were still in their perpetual slight smirk; the only thing off was his eyes. Instead of them being cold and distant they were bright and held a hint of concern in them but before Stiles could question that he was shocked when the man reached forward and pulled a twig off from where it was stuck in Stiles hoodie. Stiles watched with slightly unfocused eyes and he hugged his knees tighter; letting out one last hiccupping laugh before falling silent. He was suddenly exhausted and after months of wandering around. The house felt warm and even still smelled like the pack. 

He wondered briefly how that was possible. 

Blue eyes gazed into his as Peter placed his hand, still holding the stick onto Stiles bent knee, “What’s so funny?”

Stiles let another giggled escape before saying in a small voice, “I’m you”

Now the blue eyes narrowed, and his brows furrowed in confusion, “I’m afraid, I don’t understand.”

Stiles sighed and shifted wishing he had taken his backpack off it was pressing into his back making him uncomfortable. He let his eyes fall onto his brain’s creation’s hand; it felt so real. He could feel the warmth and weight of it through the thick fabric of his jeans. He slowly reached for the stick, not grabbing it just feeling along the dead wood’s bark. It felt real too.

He shrugged, “Doesn’t matter.”

Should he be concerned that his own imagination did not understand him?

‘Fake Peter’ cocked his head as his other hand rested on Stiles’ other knee; causing the boy to jump at the sudden feeling of it.

It felt so real.

“I remember thinking most of the things that came out of your mouth as unimportant babble, but I’m curious about this. So, please explain.”

Stiles scowled at the stick, that was mean. Not everything he had said was babble. He had made many important findings while helping Scott and the pack. Who had taught Scott to control his wolf? Who said they couldn’t trust Matt? Who could see through Theo’s bullshit? Stiles raised his scowl to meet the eyes of the imaginary wolf as he answered the command his brain had just made. It might have been phrased as a question, but Stiles knew better; it was a command. 

Therefore, his whiskey brown eyes clashed with blue as he said, “I lost everybody.”

He watched as ‘Fake Peter’s’ head jerked back but he otherwise stayed silent; so, Stiles continued, “They’re all gone. They left me.”

He dropped his eyes back to his knees, his fists clenching around his legs pulling them impossibly closer to his chest. He could feel the panic rising and for once didn’t try to hold it back.

“I was still there but they didn’t care- they just go- got into the c-car and left. And now I am alone. I can’t b-be alo-o-ne!” 

Stiles words started to jumble together. His lips moving faster, words coming out faster then he could censor them; his vision was blurring, causing his jean-clad knees to come in and out of focus with each of his erratic breaths. Stiles squeezed his fists tighter until he felt skin give way the bite of pain doing nothing to calm him down.

“I tried to find them. I waited until it was s-safe and tried to f-follow, but I was alon-n-ne. I didn’t know what I was doing. I’m still alone!”

He nearly whispered the last but that did nothing to quell the force behind the words. He was crying so hard he couldn’t breathe the tears seeming to come out in an unstoppable rush. Distantly, he could feel a hand grabbing onto his shoulder, but he knew it wasn’t real. None of this was real. 

“Stiles I need you to calm down. Try to breathe through your nose. Can you do that?” Peter’s voice was firm and commanding. So, commanding that Stiles tried to follow the instructions but it was too hard. His breaths were still coming out in garbled heaps. 

The hand on his shoulder tightened as the voice said in an even firmer tone, “I said breathe Stiles. In through your nose and out through your mouth.”

Stiles trembled at the force of the voice. It was enough to get him to focus. 

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

His knees came back into focus as his vision cleared. The pressure on his shoulder lightened a little but not much. Stile found he was grateful for its weight and warmth. Despite the fact it wasn’t real, it was grounding him in a way the pain just wouldn’t. 

Peter’s voice echoed around the room, “Good boy, now look up at me.”

Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and shook his, he didn’t want too. Peter looked so real and Stiles wanted so bad to believe that he really was crouching in front of him, but Peter was never really the kind that would help anyone. 

Peter sighed. 

Stiles could feel him shift then the hand that was resting on his upturned knee dropped the stick and rose. Stiles flinched back, pressing even harder into the wall. The hand didn’t stop as it raised and cupped around the back of Stiles' neck, grounding him even more. Enough that he followed the gentle nudge the hand brought with it and tilted his head up. 

Only to meet a pair of bright red alpha eyes.

Stiles froze.

He watched as the crimson eyes tilted. That didn’t make sense, Peter was only ever an alpha once. Why would his brain imagine Peter being an alpha, again?  
“You back with me?” 

Stiles’ brow furrowed. 

“Your eyes?”

Those eyes seemed to glow brighter and Stiles leaned closer falling deeper into their stare.

Peter smirked, looking amused. “I asked you a question, Stiles.”

Stiles blinked, then shook his head.

“what?”

“I asked if you’d finished your panic attack?”

Stiles released his tortured fingers from their clenched state still staring into the blood red eyes and forced himself to stop this ridiculous charade. Peter wasn’t an alpha. He was dead like most of the population. Eichen House was one of the first places to fall in the beginning, all the inmates were either bitten or killed. That included Peter. 

“You’re not here.”

The red bled out of the wolf’s eyes as they filled with confusion, but Stiles wasn’t finished.

“This isn’t real. This-” Stiles lifted his hand, fingers still in a slightly curled shape and gestured between them, “is all in my head.”

Peter rolled his eyes and his hands slid away, making Stiles feel suddenly cold and alone. “Apparently not.” 

Stile’s sat a little straighter and flexed his cramped hands letting his legs relax a little like he had done with his fingers. Trying to get feeling back into them so he could leave. He knew it wasn’t safe at night, but he needed to get out of this house. If he was on the road his brain would be too focused on trying to survive to conjure up old enemies.

Peter stood up, looking down at Stiles. He had his hands pressed against his hips and was studying Stiles. Stiles held his gaze as he stretched his toes. Peter tilted his head a little   
to the right before murmuring mostly to himself, “What am I going to do with you?”

Stiles shrugged answering, “You don’t have to do anything. I am going to leave and you are going to fade away.” 

Peter grinned still looking down, “Ah Stiles, I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

Now it was Stiles turn to tilt his head. He didn’t understand.

“Huh?”

Peter’s grin widened, and he crouched down again, wrapping a hand around the back of Stiles' neck once again and pulling him closer so their eyes were locked, blue and amber brown. Stiles tried to jerk back but the hand tightened so that wasn’t an option.

With their faces inches apart, Peter grin turned into a feral smile, “I’m real, Stiles.”

Stiles tried to shake his head but with the hand on his neck, he could only manage a slight movement. 

“Want me to prove it?”

Stiles reached up to try and push him away still moving his head in tiny, incremental shakes but Peter grabbed his hand, holding it in an unbreakable grip.

Peter ignored the other hand pushing at his shoulder as he held Stiles’ hand in between their faces.

Stiles was shaking and pushing at Peter, but the man didn’t move. He only lifted his hand away from Stiles' neck and grabbed one of his fingers.

“One”

Stiles strained harder. Peter grabbed another finger.

“Two.”

And another.

“Three”

Stiles brought his leg up between them and frantically kicked but Peter only shifted out of the way then pinned his leg down with his knee. Stiles whimpered in pain as the man’s knee dug into his thigh.

Peter seemed unroused, only raising an eyebrow at the boy, “Kicking isn’t nice, Stiles.”

He turned his attention back to the hand in front of him, “ Now, where was I?”

Stiles whimpered again as Peter made a show of contemplating his hand before grabbing his ring finger, then his pinky.

“Four”

“Five”

Reaching up he then grabbed the hand that was still straining on his shoulder, trying to lessen the pressure Peter was keeping on his leg. Stiles fought, but it was a fruitless exercise that didn’t even faze the man.

He continued to count for Stiles.

“Six”

“Seven”

“Eight” 

Stiles didn’t want to know. As much as he wanted Peter to be standing in front of him, he knew what that would mean. 

Peter didn’t stop. 

“Nine”

“Ten”

Stiles looked at his hand. No extra fingers. There were ten fingers. He looked up at Peter who was still kneeling on his leg; however, the pain felt distant. Peter was still smirking that feral grin, but his eyes were warm. 

It was true. Peter Fucking Hale was standing in front of him and Stiles was alone with him.

Peter reached out and grabbed the straps of Stiles’ backpack, hauling him up until he was standing and leaning against the wall. The boy gasped as his leg throbbed, pain shooting up his thigh. 

Peter stepped back, before raising his arms in a condescending gesture, “Welcome home, Stiles.”

Stiles gulped, not looking around but keeping his eyes trained solely on the man that had made his and his pack’s lives very difficult. The man, just moments ago he was wishing was real. The man he was now alone with. With one hand he grabbed the strap of his bag and his other rubbed his thigh. 

Peter was alive.

Peter was here with Stiles.

Peter was alone with Stiles.

The wolf smirked, “Looks like you’re not alone anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys!!!!!  
>  Here is the next part of Stiles and Peter's adventure,  
> I am soooo excited to write more about each of them but for right now I have to focus on more of their uneasy acquaintance stage. Don't worry their relationship will grow!  
>  The end of the world had changed both of them and now they will be faced with the decision of sticking together or trying their luck out on the road.........   
> Which we know is not a good thing for Stiles. 
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts and suggestions,  
> I love hearing from you!!!!  
> <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> I am sooooo excited to get this idea down and can't wait to hear some feedback from you guys!  
> Let me know what you think and any questions you may have.  
> Also, I am on tumbler so please don't hesitate to ask me any questions there as well!  
> Thanks for reading!


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